


from the ground up

by rmaowl



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Flowers, Gardens & Gardening, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 15:15:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14404821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rmaowl/pseuds/rmaowl
Summary: Keith hums softly to himself, sitting on a large wooden swing painted white, surrounded by greenery and pale flowers. Life is in full bloom all around him. The cool breeze passes him by, stopping to envelope him for only a moment. The sunlight is soft, not overbearing. Keith can close his eyes peacefully.It’s beautiful in a way he’s only ever seen twice before, in his two husbands.





	from the ground up

**Author's Note:**

> i know the description can make it seem soft and fluffy— and it is, somewhat— but please heed the tags,,

Keith hums softly to himself, sitting on a large wooden swing painted white, surrounded by greenery and pale flowers. Life is in full bloom all around him. The cool breeze passes him by, stopping to envelope him for only a moment. The sunlight is soft, not overbearing. Keith can close his eyes peacefully.

It’s beautiful in a way he’s only ever seen twice before, in his two husbands.

He remembers every inch of this garden so well, and even with his eyes closed he can conjure up an exact image of it. He notices every new thing that they plant, the lilies and the carnations and the chrysanthemums. He remembers the hopeful promises of _”we’re going to build a new life together. we’re going to grow and get better and pick flowers. it’s going to be okay. we will be okay. we will.”_ and all the soft smiles shared here. He remembers the cheesy afternoon picnics, Lance slinging puns left and right, grinning his classic grin, Shiro laughing at each and every one of them, so happy, always so happy. He remembers catching fireflies in late July, the tiny luminescent green light fading in and out in his hands, soft pink lips agape in awe, fond kisses pressed to both of his rose-dusted cheeks. He remembers clumsy dances to gentle music, Lance guiding him along, keeping him from getting lost in those ocean blue eyes. He remembers a ladybug landing on his hand, light and ticklish, breathlessly he’d beckoned them over and they’d joked _”she likes you, doesn’t she?”_ and laughed for hours till it got dark. He remembers the spraying of the water hose, becoming completely drenched and forcing Shiro to water all of the plants out of bitterness, despite knowing that it was never a simple nuisance of a chore to him because this garden was theirs and so was he. He remembers tucking flowers behind their ears and telling them that they looked beautiful and that he would always love them and how hard they’d cried at such a simple act. He remembers Lance bringing him out to see the stars after he’d mentioned missing them in passing and getting emotional because he set up a blanket-and-pillow fort on the goddamn swing. He remembers Shiro being able to hold his hand without hesitation, prosthetic or no, and the soaring feeling it’d given them both as they sat among the reeds and softly talked about their days and idly wondered what else they could possibly need in life.

But Keith remembers the hard times, too.

He remembers Lance crying, droplets clinging gently to his eyelashes, voicing his insecurities and fears as they held his hands in full support, hugging him and crying afterwards because _”we love you so much, sweetheart, angel, and if you doubt that you come to us. we will prove you wrong.”_ He remembers Shiro, the sky pitch black and the moon milky white, biting his lip and staring down at his prosthetic arm, still sitting cross-legged in the dewy spring grass, talking together in the cold about senseless things until the sun rose and turned the sky a pale orange. He remembers getting uselessly upset over tiny things, tears springing to his eyes as his tone grew sharper, pushing them away, but they wouldn’t let him shut them out and they broke down his walls all over again, they saved him again, why— how—

He remembers gripping the porcelain toilet bowl, hands sweaty and slipping, knees aching from the tiled bathroom floor, Lance rubbing circles into his back, both miserable, both sobbing, both not wanting to be where the other couldn’t. He remembers Shiro holding him close on the soft gray couch as he shut his eyes tightly, clutching the back of his skirt in balled fists, hoping for the agony to end soon. He remembers lying alone in bed, shivering, wishing he were out in their garden instead.

That’s where he is now, sitting on the white swing in the garden, gazing out at the lilies and the carnations and the chrysanthemums, pretending that he can breathe in the soft air.

They can’t see him.


End file.
